Page 11 of Sporty Girls Don't Fall For Loners

I reach for some chocolate, break off two pieces, and hand one to him. “Well, you know I’m useless in the romance department. If the girl loves him back, why doesn’t she just say so?”

Dad smiles as he ruffles my hair. “You think you’d be able to tell a guy you love him?”

“Yeah.” I pat my hair back in place. “Why not? He loves me, I love him. Boom, happily ever after.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to admit how you feel.”

I wonder if he’s referring to himself and Mom. He thought he wasn’t good enough for her and would only cause her heartache because of his painful past, so he pulled away.

“People should be honest about the way they feel,” I conclude.

“True, but that doesn’t make for an intriguing story, does it?” He ruffles my hair again.

“I’m getting too old for that, Dad,” I complain.

“Not in my eyes.”

I finish my chocolate. “Maybe Lily’s not too busy with college and can help you brainstorm. She and Aunt Ally are the hopeless romantics in the family.”

Dad chuckles. “Lily never says no to a brainstorming session that involves romance.”

“Yep.”

We chat for a bit before I go to my room and settle down at my desk. After answering texts from Mia, Rylee, and some of my teammates, I tackle my homework. I love school, with math being my favorite subject. My friends don’t enjoy school as much as me, though Rylee has been liking it lately because of Mason.

About an hour later, I hear Mom come home. She works for a charity organization she founded with Easton Knight, the richest man in Edenbury. It encourages girls to get more involved in sports, since many girls tend to give up on it as they grow older. Mom had a rough time when she played football because she was a girl, which is why she has dedicated her life to the cause. I volunteer there a few times a month.

I hear her climb the stairs to my room and then knock on the open door. “Hey, Zoey.”

“Hi, Mom.”

Mom and I have the same sandy brown hair and brown eyes. When I was a kid, I worshiped her and wanted to be just like her. I still look up to her as a role model and see her as my hero, but I want to be my own person and not walk in her shadow.

“Any suggestions for dinner?” she asks.

I lean back in my seat and stretch my arms over my head. “I have a craving for something fatty. Something with lots of cheese…”

Mom’s face brightens. “Lasagna?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! So in the mood.”

“Me, too.” She laughs. “I’ll get started on it.”

A little while later, when I’m just about finished my homework, the delicious smell of cheese and sauce wafts into my nose, making my mouth water. I put my pen down and hurry downstairs, where Mom and Dad are dancing in the kitchen to whatever is playing on the speaker. It’s a fast-paced song, and my parents are acting…well, like teenagers.

Dad grabs a wooden spoon from the table and starts singing along with the song while Mom continues dancing around, her hair bouncing in all different directions as she completely lets go and has fun. Mom’s job isn’t very stressful, but as adults and parents, they always have some sort of stress on their minds. Sometimes they let loose like this and act like complete dorks.

“Why do I have such weird parents?” I say as I step into the kitchen and peek into the oven. Mmm, I can’t wait to eat it.

Mom reaches for my hands and continues dancing around. “Join us, stubborn daughter of ours. You’ve been cooped up in your room for hours.”

“So? Ugh, come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t let go of my hands. “You can’t just sit in your room all day. Other than sports, you barely leave the house. You need to experience the world.”

“I experience the world just fine from the comfort of my room.”

Dad pushes the spoon in front of my mouth. “Chorus time.”

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